


Distractions

by jijikaita



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, Imagine your OTP, M/M, Secret Crush, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jijikaita/pseuds/jijikaita
Summary: Apparently this is not a night for productive studying for either of these boys.
A quick response to this prompt: http://otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.com/post/150830242680/imagine-person-a-gently-running-their-fingers





	

Scorpius had been tarrying over the same sentence for some time, not actively reading a single word of such-and-such a treatise on the fermentation of puffer-fish eyes. They were beginning to glaze – his own eyes– and they fluttered as he clung to consciousness. It was so quiet the Slytherin common room, and so pleasantly warm at the sofa he and Albus shared near the fire. His body was defenseless against the gravity of the cushions, against the inviting heat of the body next to him. He hugged his open potions text book to his stomach, a last ditch attempt to stay focused by at least not losing his page.

So intent was Albus upon committing all of the uses of dittany to his memory (so maybe he could maybe, for once, score above average Monday’s quiz) that he didn’t even notice that Scorpius was no longer reading attentively, but instead lolling towards him. Not until felt a touch to his shoulder.

It hadn’t felt like a simple tap on the shoulder. Nor was it the light, precise touch of a hand. It was his head, resting like a handsome sack of goosegrass flour , right on his shoulder, so close that when Albus turned to look, his lips were tickled by tendrils of white blonde hair.

Should he wake him up? Jostle him a bit, and then give him shit about it? But Albus’s thoughts gave way to instinct, which was to silently stare, holding his breath lest the movement disturb him. That was if the violent thrumming of his heart didn’t wake Scorpius first. Emerald green eyes flitted around the common room, checking each Slytherin’s face. All were oblivious as he had been until a moment ago, pouring over their notes like he’d had every intention to. The rare scholarly diligence he -albeit briefly- had attained was now long lost.

How could Dittany hope to vie for Albus’s attention amidst the gentle rush of Scorpius’s sleeping breaths? The comforting weight of the Malfoy’s head on his shoulder, his leg resting against his leg. And then there was that hair. It was all Albus could see of Scorpius without craning his neck, which would involve moving, which was completely out of the question. Strands of white gold, cool huen by the pale green flames that lit their common room, smooth and fine as silk. His lips still tingled where they were kissed by the stray lock. Scorpius had beautiful hair, and that was nothing short of an objective fact. 

Albus saw his hand move before he felt it, watched it drift to his best friend’s forehead. He needed to touch it. If he could just feel Scorpius’s beautiful hair, everything would be alright, even if he remembered not a single application for dittany. Breath held, Albus threaded his fingers through Scorpius’s hair, his fingers tracing lightly against his scalp. If the wizarding world knew how unearthly soft the Malfoy’s hair was, there would be a demand to harvest it for use in potions and wand cores. Scorpius must be protected from this fate, at all costs, Albus decided in earnest, a responsibility he would have to take on alone.

Scorpius’s breath hitched. No doubt he was going to wake up to find his friend fondling his hair. Not weird. Not. At. All. Scorpius did stir, but he didn’t open his eyes, nor alone bolt upright to swat Albus’s hand away. All he did was respire a contented sigh and nuzzle into the crook of Albus’s neck. Which caused Albus no end of anxiety, what with his pulse hammering through his jugular after the near-death experience of Scorpius almost waking up him creepily stroking his hair.

Albus was done for, but he was content with his fate. Adequately preparing himself for Potions was lost cause from the beginning. And maybe this was, too, whatever it was. but that didn’t stop him from caressing Scorpius until he rested his head against the soft locks, and their sleeping breaths rose and fell together.


End file.
